


The Fury of a Scorned God

by RogueLioness



Series: Kiana Trevelyan One Shots [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anger, Angst, Blood, Dark!Fen'harel, Dark!Solas, F/M, Fen'harel has a temper, Freeform, One Shot, Vallaslin, non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 12:54:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6754726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogueLioness/pseuds/RogueLioness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fen'harel finds out his mate has taken another lover.</p><p>He does not take the news lightly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fury of a Scorned God

“No,” she said softly, “he does not deserve to die.” With a wave of her hand, she healed the Commander, the wounds he’d so carefully inflicted knitting together.

“You dare?” he snarled at her. _How dare she? How dare she heal that mongrel with the magic **he’d** bestowed upon her?_

She looked at him impassively. “He did not do anything wrong.”

“He dared to lie between your legs!”

She shrugged, his temper unaffecting her. “We shared a bed, yes. I was willing.” Her eyes dared him to challenge her.

Fen’harel stared at his mate, his fury knowing no bounds. Those who knew him, who _truly_ knew the trickster god, knew that his temper had a very long fuse… but once it was lit, it **exploded**.

When the Dread Wolf was angry, he was not nice.

He was not nice at all.

He ordered his men to throw Cullen out. “She has saved your life, fool,” he sneered, “and by doing so has forfeited hers. Remember that till the end of your days.” He watched with a perverse pleasure as the man cursed at him and struggled against his guards to no end.

He returned his gaze towards his errant mate, and his fury mounted. She stood, her face an emotionless mask. Rising from his throne, he approached her slowly, his words punctuated by each step he took. “You dared to take another as your lover when you knew you were bound to the Dread Wolf, Kiana,” he crooned softly, but there was a darkness lacing his words. “For that, you must be punished.”

She looked at him defiantly. “Do you not remember, Dread Wolf, how _you_ turned away from _me_?”

He slid his hand into his hair, gripping it hard enough to cause her to wince. He tugged her head backwards, slowly, leisurely, her exposed throat, so soft, and smooth, and unmarked, and _right in front of him_ immensely appealing. He gave in to the sudden need, and sank his teeth into the soft flesh there, ignoring the hiss of pain she gave.

The bright, sharp, metallic taste of iron burst in his mouth and he pulled back, watching in fascination as the luminous garnet droplets rolled down her neck. Leaning in, he lapped up the errant drops with a pass of his tongue.

Seeing the imprint of his teeth on her skin gave him an idea. 

An idea that would serve to punish her, and serve to bind her irrevocably to him.

“Abelas,” he called out, hearing the clink of his general’s armor against the marble floor. When the elf stood in front of him, he tore his gaze away from _**his** human_. “Take her to the ritual chamber. She forgets who she belongs to, so I shall remind her.” He looked down at her. “Prepare the vallaslin blade,” he said softly, watching with a twisted sense of satisfaction at the mounting horror on her face.

“My Lord,” the Sentinel spoke hesitantly, “it will not take unless she wills it.”

“Then I will **overwhelm** her will with mine!” the Dread Wolf roared. Abelas shrank back in fear. “Yes, my Lord. As you wish.” He grabbed her arm and began to drag her away.

“You can’t do this!” she screeched out. “This is wrong!”

He quirked an eyebrow at her. “And who is going to stop me, hmmm? I told you you were going to be punished. Whose fault is that?”

“Yours, you imbecile!” she spat. “When you left me, what was I supposed to do? Be alone forever?”

“Yes,” he said, so cold and stern and unforgiving she was rendered speechless.

He gathered the enchanted cup from his chambers, the little pot that would hold the ink that would mark her skin. For her, however, he would not use ink. For her, he would remain true to the nature of blood writing.

For her, he would use his blood.

He walked into the ritual chamber, her angry cries resounding in the air. She fought against the Sentinels, lashing out at them, using her magic to keep them at arm’s distance from her. Her eyes landed on him, and she snarled.

A mistake.

His mana drain was so fierce she hit the wall, her body slumping to the floor in the aftermath. “Leave us,” he addressed the Sentinels tersely. “Guard the door, and do not let anyone in.” They bowed their heads and filed out of the room in silence. The sound of the door being shut echoed in the silence. 

He casually approached the alter. Placing the cup in the center, he picked up the vallaslin dagger and slashed his palm, collecting the red liquid carefully. Once a sufficient quantity was collected, he glanced at her, assessing her clinically, ignoring the look of terror on her face.

“Gold,” he said, tapping a finger against his lips. “Gold will shine brightly against your beautiful amber skin.”

She scrambled to her feet. “No.”

He gave her an indulgent look. “No?”

“I don’t want this. You cannot make me do it.”

The prospect of her standing up to him, was laughable. “You are mistaken, _vhenan_ ,” he said, amused at the glare she directed at him at his use of the endearment. “I **will** make you do it.” He patted the altar lightly. “Come here, and it will be less painful for you.”

She gave him an unimpressed look. 

He sighed. “Very well. Suit yourself.” With that, he lunged across the room, capturing her before she could even think to move. Pinning her arms behind her back, he nudged her towards the altar, uncaring of the futile twists and turns she made in an effort to free herself. “You have only yourself to blame,” he reminded her, before slamming her with another mana drain spell. 

She slumped in his arms, but still she struggled against him.

Incensed by her disobedience, he pushed yet another mana drain on her.

She weakened. And yet she would not bend her will to his.

“Foolish, foolish Kiana,” he said, brushing his lips across her hair, “you cannot possibly win.” And drained her of mana yet again, this time forcing his will into her. He could feel the cracks in her will, and relentlessly pushed into them, till she had no choice but to yield to him.

Once he was satisfied with her compliance, he scooped her up and placed her across the altar.

He traced the path that the dagger would take with his fingers, enchanted by the design he marked on her face. “You will look so beautiful, _ma vhenan_ ,” he told her, wiping away the tears that rolled down her cheeks. “You will be the only one who wears my vallaslin,” he promised.

“Please,” she breathed quietly, a plea in her eyes. 

But the Dread Wolf’s anger needed to be sated.

He etched into her skin with the jewelled dagger, holding her still with his magic, marking her face with lines drawn with his blood. He pushed a spell under her skin, so that no one, not even he, could take away the vallaslin that would adorn her face. And with each pass the lines gleamed gold, till they shone like the rays of the sun.

He put down the dagger, admiring his handiwork. He had been right. She would be his masterpiece.

He gently wiped away the blood and the tears. “Come,” he said, holding out his hand, and she trembled with the force of his will pressing down on her. Unable to ignore his summons, she climbed down from the altar. 

“Have you learned your lesson, _vhenan_?” he asked almost courteously, satisfied when she bowed her head and nodded.

It would be two full days later when his anger was finally dissolved.

When he realized the enormity of his actions.

**Author's Note:**

> This has been buzzing around in my head for days now, and I needed to get it out because nothing else would go in while it was there *frowns*.


End file.
